The Lullaby
by MaidGisele
Summary: Peeta's nightmares bring back painful memories for himself, and for Katniss. Post Mockingjay.


I open my eyes. I blink a few times, letting my eyes focus on the ceiling. It's late; the middle of the night, so why am I awake? I wasn't having one of my nightmares. As my senses start to sharpen, I feel a dull pain on my wrist. As I look over to my right, my ears register the sound of quick, panicky breathing. Peeta is gripping my wrist, his eyes are closed and he's nearly hyperventilating. I sit up, my wrist still caught in his hand.

"Peeta," I whisper as gently as I can. I shake his shoulder. His grip on me just gets tighter. "Peeta!" I say a bit louder. Still nothing. I'm afraid he'll make himself sick, or have a heart attack. I start shaking him again, gently at first, but then harder and harder. "Peeta!" I shout. "Peeta, wake up!"

"Katniss!" he gives a strangled cry, hurls himself up and grabs me by my shoulders. In the moonlight I can see him looking at me, his eyes shining with pure terror. "Katniss! You have to...you...there was..." His face relaxes and he calms down, but only slightly. "Peeta," I whisper, reaching up my hand to cup his face. "It's okay. You're okay." I rub his arm gently. Peeta's breathing slows down a little bit. His grip on my shoulders lessens. His muscles are so tense, they're like wires. He's shaking uncontrollably. _  
_

"Katniss?" His voice is like a child's. Small and quiet and scared. There are tears in his eyes. "They took you from me," he mumbles. "And they tortured you."

"Shhhh," I whisper. I lean his head against my shoulder, and stroke his hair. "Shhh. It's okay. I'm here. I'm safe." He's still tense, terrified. "It was just a dream."

"Oh Katniss," he says, and starts to sob. I hold him and rock him back and forth, back and forth. But he doesn't get any calmer. Rage wells up inside me. Even though it is defeated, obliterated, I still hate the Capitol. I still hate Snow. Because even though he's dead, he's not gone, not really. He stills haunts me. He still terrifies Peeta. The games have been over for a long time. Peeta and I have been married for four years. But we're still broken, still hurting.

"It's all right," I soothe. "Lie down, try to go back to sleep." Peeta is reluctant, but he leans back, and I hold him my arms, cradling him. I pull him up and get him to use my head as a pillow. For a while we just lie there. I caress his head gently, but he doesn't relax.

"Sing," he whispers, so quietly I can barely catch what he said. Tears start to well up in my eyes. His voice, so small and pleading, reminds me of another. I haven't sung since before the war ended. It brings back too many agonizing memories. I don't know how much Peeta remembers, but he's never, ever asked me to sing before.

But I can't say no. Not now. Not when he's like this. Peeta is all I have left, and I love him more than anything. I take a breath, slow and shaky.

_Deep in the meadow, under a willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head and close your sleepy eyes_

_And when again they open the sun will rise._

Peeta's eyes start to close.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

Peeta's muscles relax. His breathing slows. He's falling asleep.

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And when again it's morning the sun will rise._

My body feels like lead. Peeta's breath is soft and steady on my neck. His eyes are closed.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true_

My eyes are closing.

_Here is the place where I love you._

Time passes. I don't know how long I lie there. My eyes are shut, but I can't sleep. I'm still, listening to Peeta's breathing, to the the sound of crickets outside my window.

"Katniss." I'm startled. I thought Peeta was asleep. "Yes?"

"That song...the lullaby you sang," he whispers. He swallows, struggling, trying to grasp at a memory. "You sang it for Rue, in our first Games. While she was dying. Real or not real?"

I feel a lump working it's way into my throat. I take several deep, deliberate breaths. "Real."


End file.
